


ottering

by nezstorm



Series: stealth mode ottering [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creature Stiles, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Wereotter Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/nezstorm
Summary: The one where Stiles is a wereotter and doesn't let anyone touch his rock.





	ottering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/gifts).



> I don't know if this counts as a gift, Mys, but you were the one who asked to put this series back first, so. Happy Birthday, my friend. I love you!

Stiles’ favorite rock is oval, with a pinkish hue, and is the size of a chicken egg, but a bit flatter than one. It fits into his pockets neatly, makes for a pleasant weight. He often holds it in his hand when he’s stressed because it’s just rough enough that he can feel it when he rubs it with his fingers, the repetitive motions and familiar texture making it easier to calm down.

 

Stiles is never without his rock. 

 

(His mom’s rock was made of edges and angles, a plain grey thing that she liked more because of the funny shape than anything else. She used to make Stiles guess what it looked like, always smiling fondly at him no matter what ridiculous answer he came up with. Stiles held it only once, briefly before they put it in her grave. He never learned what exactly the rock reminded his mom of, but maybe all the answers were correct.)

 

Stiles never let anyone touch the rock, even if Scott sometimes made fun of him because of it, calling Stiles Gollum and the rock his precious. 

 

It isn’t really until he’s with Peter that he thinks about it: allowing someone else to hang onto his little treasure. He often saw, as a kid, how his mom would just casually pass her rock to his father for safekeeping when she didn’t have pockets of her own. She didn’t like putting it in her bag. 

 

It’s an important part of him and who he is, and Peter has been so accepting of his unusual quirks, often looking at him with amusement when Stiles insisted Peter should let him hold his hand so they could nap. 

 

Sometimes, when Stiles runs himself dry with long hours of studying or research, too wound up to even consider crashing for a few hours of sleep, Peter would just sit down next to him, press their sides close and tangle their fingers together. He’d rub Stiles’ fingers with his thumb, drawing slow circles on his skin, and Stiles would be blinking sleepily in minutes, safe tucked in against Peter. 

 

And Peter knew Stiles loved him, Stiles wasn’t shy about telling the wolf how he felt. But sometimes he’d get this look, his smile a bit crooked before he’d return the words and distract Stiles with a kiss-- Like he thinks Stiles could do better, could love someone more than he loves Peter. 

 

So maybe that, more than anything, is why Stiles is doing this.

 

They’re going out today, to the movies to see the new Bond because both of them appreciate Ben Whishaw as Q and then they’ll grab some Italian food and go to Peter’s to cuddle on his amazingly comfortable leather couch. It’s not an occasion to dress up into anything fancy, but Stiles wiggles into the tightest jeans he has and forgoes the layers in favor of a nice sweater that he might have filched of Peter last week. 

 

He has nowhere to put his rock.

 

It makes him a bit antsy, as he waits, holding his rock in his hands and smoothing his thumbs over the surface of it. But well, he sent a picture to both Lydia and Erica, and got a hundred percent approval from both, coupled with Erica calling just to wolf whistle at him. Peter will surely appreciate his efforts.

 

He startles a bit when there’s a knock at the door, he was so lost in thought, but he stands up, takes a deep breath, and decides to face the music.

 

His smile, when he opens the door and sees Peter there waiting for him, is genuine. He always smiles for his wolf. 

 

“Hey,” he chirps a bit nervously and doesn’t let the brow that Peter arches at him deter him in the slightest.

 

Instead, he goes right in for a sweet hello kiss, - that he possibly indulges in for a minute longer than necessary, but no one is complaining, - and not so sneakily puts the rock into Peter’s front pocket. 

 

Peter breaks the kiss at that, frowning slightly as he fishes in his jeans to see what it was that Stiles slipped into his pocket.

 

Stiles worried a bit at his lower lip with his teeth, rocking on the balls of his feet as he watches Peter’s eyes grow a bit wide when realizes what he’s holding.

 

He glances at Stiles, face unreadable, but then he pockets the rock and drags Stiles closer. He wounds an arm around Stiles waist and kisses him again and somehow the kiss is so much sweeter than the one they just shared.

 

When they part this time, Stiles find himself clutching onto the lapels of Peter’s jacket, flushed and tingling right down to his toes. 

 

They’re both smiling, somewhat stupidly, and it might just be the happiest Stiles has ever seen Peter.

 

Which is why he has to kiss him again.

 

\--

 

They’re cuddling on Peter’s couch two hours later, having forgone the movie in favor of food and making out, Stiles’ rock still safe in Peter’s pocket. Stiles is holding onto Peter’s hand and ready for a nap, his tummy full and lips puffy from kissing, content. 

 

He nuzzles against Peter’s shoulder and Peter pulls him closer. He feels the press of lips against the crown of his head before Peter tells him, “I love you, too.”

  
  


END

  
  



End file.
